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❛ i was cursed with expensive taste and a low budget ❜
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A small smile curled on Gemüse’s face for a second before he clamped down on it. It seemed rude to find humor in that statement.
“That’s quite unfortunate…perhaps you can at least find solace in having what you need?”
❛ i’m the weird dad, wine mom, vodka aunt, and gay cousin all in one person ❜
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Gemüse’s expression scrunched as he considered the statement said to him. He let out a small breath of air–not quite a laugh, but perhaps a gesture of humor nonetheless. “Well, that’s quite a combo. You must be fun at parties.”
⛨
Send me ⛨ and my muse will be hired to guard yours.This took a while because I couldn’t really figure out how to set it; and I still don’t really know but I’m rolling with some generic fantasy verse I guess lol.
“...”
Gemüse set his expression; eyes flicking over the person he was, apparently hired to protect.
Protection work wasn’t his favorite job, since it was more exhausting and involved than his illness-ridden body was prepared to handle, but money was money.
He didn’t say anything, but rather silently fell into place somewhat behind, to the left.
He would speak if spoken to, but otherwise was content to skulk behind the other in silence.
🤧
Send “🤧” or “ill” For my muse to be ill, and for your muse to feel the need to take care of them- whether or not they agree to being cared for.
Gemüse rubbed at his face, then paused; pulled the hand away and stared at it, as if it were alien to him, then held it to his forehead. Did he have a fever? Or maybe his hand was cold. Or...
Ah. If he was thinking this hard about it...
He should have expected it, honestly, between the stress and the steadily rising, gentle ache radiating through his muscles... He wondered if the pain showed in his gait, slower, more unsteady than it typically is.
He snapped out of his semi-mindless stupor to acknowledge them and gave a small grin, hoping that they hadn’t said something and expected an answer. If he was at home, he’d be more open to saying he wasn’t feeling well, but it wasn’t something he’d say unprompted to a near stranger. He could care for himself. Probably.
“You’re in another level of the atmosphere up there”
Tol & smol sentence starters
“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard that one, actually. But, yes, I get the point, I’m very tall.”
“I don’t think I’ve grown since I was 12″
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“Isn’t that how growth works, though?”
“I mean, I don’t remember when I stopped growing, but puberty happens in there, somewhere. So I think that’s about normal.”
✏
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Gemüse will, really, eat just about anything that’s edible. One of the biggest things that stood in the way of his original idea of being a chef was that his standards were incredibly low.
Many things that he finds perfectly edible, others just... prefer not to.
In a way, this came useful later in life, as he didn’t have much of a problem adapting to the diet changes he needed to in order to help combat lupus.
In general nowadays, his cooking is passable, but if he ever offers you pastries, you should very politely smile and say no thanks.
❝ I bet that you look good on the dance floor. ❞
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“I look good everywhere.”
It was an automatic rebuttal, one not said with much seriousness, and one that drifted into a laugh.
“Nah, I don’t know how to dance. Sure, I probably have the body for it and I can do gymnastic feats, but I never really learned to dance. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hilarious to watch, but it’s not good.”
